Brothers Make the Best Friends
by ConsultingAngelWarlock
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a wealthy child. John Watson is an orphan. When the Holmes family adopts John and Harriet neither boy will ever be the same. AU. Please do read and review :) chapter 10 (my longest ever!) : How is boarding school going for John?
1. The Beginning

**A/N: Thanks for clicking this story :D I've been working on it for a while now, but never had the guts to post it. Basically, my plan is to show Sherlock and John going through big life events as brothers and how that would affect their characters. Please review! I always love to hear what people have to say about my stuff :) **

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters you recognize, BBC does :-/_

"Mummy, why are you bringing two strange children to live with us tomorrow?" seven year old Sherlock Holmes asked his mother as she hustled about the parlour. "Aren't Mycroft and I enough?"

"Sherlock darling, of course you two are enough."

Mother Holmes sat on the sofa and pulled the small, curly haired boy up next to her.

"We have enough money to give John and Harriet a good upbringing and it seemed selfish not to do a thing about their situation."

"They don't have a mum or a dad of their own to care for them?"

"No Sherlock, they don't."

This shocked the boy, causing his grey-blue eyes to widen. It took him a little while to believe that children could live without parents to love them.

"Well, why did you make me figure out all by myself instead of telling me?" Sherlock huffed after a moment.

"I was going to tell you and Mycroft about it at tea dear. You're just too clever," Mrs. Holmes encouraged while ruffling the young boy's hair. "Speaking of tea, it's about that time, won't you call your brother for me?"

"Yes mum."

Sherlock jumped off the couch, rushed out of the room and clattered up the stairs. Upon reaching Mycroft's room, the boy knocked loudly.

"What is it Sherlock?" Mycroft's lazy voice seeped under the door

"It's tea time!"

"Alright, give me a moment to straighten up."

Sherlock waited impatiently until the door opened and the tall 13 year old stepped out with a yawn. Together, the boys went down to have tea with their mother.


	2. The First Meeting

**A/N: If you're reading this, I'm incredibly grateful! I love constructive criticism as well as praise, so review away :) **

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, BBC does :P_

Nine year old John Watson glared suspiciously at the sleek black car pulling up to the dingy building. His dirty blonde hair hung nearly to his chin and his oversized jumper hung from his small frame. His big sister Harriet put her hand on his shoulder.

"John, the Holmes family is taking us in. You mustn't be so fussy. You'll actually get real meals multiple times per day and you'll get a clean bed."

"But Harry, what if they're like our parents were? What if they're snobbity and mean? What if their sons don't like us and they try to hurt you? Don't worry though, they shan't, I'll protect you."

Harry smiled gently as she brushed her long brown hair behind her ear.

"Calm down, it'll be alright. They certainly aren't going to treat us like mum and dad did. I promise it'll be okay."

"If you say so."

John and Harriet were escorted outside to the car by a tall man in a suit. He seemed surprised that they had only a garbage bag of things between them. The drive took too long for John's liking; he fidgeted until Harry stopped him, then counted the passing cars. After he'd counted about 500 cars, they halted at the entrance to a huge house. Clambering out of the car, John gawked for a moment at the size of the building before noticing the lovely woman walking toward them. Instinctively, he moved just a hair in front of his sister to keep her from injury.

"Hello dears, I'm Westeria Holmes, but you can call me most anything. I'm very pleased that you are coming to live with my boys and me."

The woman seemed fairly harmless, so John took the hand she offered and shook it. Mrs. Holmes could tell immediately that the o had severe trust issues. He looked closer to Sherlock's age than his own and was obviously very malnourished. Harriet's hand rested firmly on her brother's shoulder. She acted closer to an adult than her own 12 years. Shaking her head slightly at the sad children before her, Westeria led the pair to meet their new brothers.

* * *

Mycroft and Sherlock waited in the hall for their mother to introduce their new siblings. Running his hands through his brownish red hair, Mycroft wondered if the girl Harriet would like reading in the library and educated discussion. Sherlock debated the likelihood of the boy being a pirate in disguise or someone else of interest. Finally, the door swung open and the four children studied their new siblings intently, not realizing the impact they would have in each others lives.


	3. Pirates

**A/N: The main purpose of this little chapter was to show John and Sherlock warming up to each other. Longer chapters to come :) Please please please review!**

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters :-/ they belong to BBC _

For the first several weeks after the Watsons joined the Holmes family, Sherlock and John didn't speak much. Sherlock deduced a great deal about his new brother, but only gave away tidbits of what he knew to avoid angering the older boy. John didn't know how to start a conversation with Sherlock, whose silent observation amazed him. One day, that all changed.

Sherlock sat moping on the staircase, black hair covering his face. Mustering up his courage, John perched next to him.

"Hey, umm, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," the younger boy's voice betrayed his fib.

"Well, actually, I don't think you are. I'm no genius, but you don't seem very ok to me."

Sherlock sighed a little bit before launching into his tale.

"Well, I wanted to play pirate make believe with Mycroft, but then he insisted that I couldn't ever be a real pirate so I shouldn't make believe it now."

"You know something? You could be a pirate if you wanted to be one. If you still want to make believe, I'll play with you."

Sherlock brightened up almost immediately.

"You really will?"

"Aye aye captain"

The two ran around for hours searching for treasure in the gardens and the spare bedrooms. Snatches of their dialogue floated up to the library where Harriet and Mycroft sat discussing Shakespeare.

"It's good to hear John playing, he hasn't in a long time," Harriet commented as the boys scampered past the library door.

"It's wonderful that Sherlock finds pleasure in companionship with John. He doesn't much like people," Mycroft responded before returning his attention to the Shakespearian sonnet in his lap.

Westeria Holmes smiled as she listened to the sounds of her four busy children talking and laughing. She knew for certain now that adopting the poor Watson children was the right choice.


	4. Anxiety

**A/N: This is most likely my last post for a week or so, because my cellphone is being taken while I'm on a church trip starting today. Please be patient and leave me a friendly review to come back to? Thanks for reading this far! Also thanks to the guest reviewer for your lovely review :)**

_Disclaimer: I sadly do not own the characters :( they belong to BBC_

The rest of the summer passed quickly, and all too soon it was time for school. John paced nervously before his first day at the "rich kid school", the occasional tear escaping his blue eyes. His accent didn't fit with the wealthy children, he hadn't completely recovered from being so malnourished, and nobody would ever treat him like one of them. A knock at the door halted his pacing.

"John, are you ok? You seem anxious," Sherlock called out.

"Yeah, I am anxious, very anxious indeed."

"Well, could you maybe let me come in? I don't want anybody to catch me out of bed."

"Sure."

John walked over to the door hoping his 'brother' wouldn't notice the tear stains on his cheeks.

"You're worried about school, aren't you?"

Sherlock's keen deductive skills caused him to notice every detail. He didn't quite understand the reason behind the worry, but the worry was certainly there.

"Yeah, very worried if you must know."

"May I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," John replied.

"I'm worried too. Last year the others didn't like me much. They'll like me even less this year, because I'm moving ahead a year."

Sherlock seemed very confident most of the time, so this shaky confession came as a surprise to John.

"Why wouldn't they like you?"

"I'm just smarter than they are. It rather annoys them."

Annoying was an understatement. It angered the others greatly. Sherlock couldn't admit how bad it had been last year. Not even to himself.


	5. First Day Jitters

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to put up! I got pretty discouraged when I got back from my trip, then life got kinda busy again. Here's this! I hope you guys like it.**

_Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, just their situations_

The first day of school arrived too soon for either boy. Reluctantly they pulled on their stuffy uniforms, complete with ties and dress shoes. Neither ate much or spoke much. When the sleek black car pulled up to the curb where numerous other sleek cars waited, John looked at his brother. The small black haired child stared back, nervously nibbling his lip.

"We'll be quite okay, right John?"

"Of course, I'm sure there'll be no problems at all."

Shaking on the inside, they pushed open the doors and went to meet their classmates.

* * *

John scanned the group of boys and girls waiting in line to check in at the office and go to their classes. He stuck out like a sore thumb among the well polished, perfectly nourished rich kids. Although he knew it would happen, it still bothered him. A boy standing behind him tapped his shoulder.

"Hullo, who are you? I'm Greg."

"I'm John. Which class are you in?"

"Mr. Stamford's class, how about you?"

"Same."

"I've never seen you before, are you new?"

"Yeah," John mumbled, knowing the truth would be out soon.

"Who're your parents?"

"Well, my parents are dead."

"Oh, sorry mate. So you're adopted?"

"Yeah."

"Who by?" Greg asked curiously.

"The Holmes family."

Greg gaped for a moment, but quickly gained his composure.

"You mean as in Sherlock Holmes's family?"

"Yeah, you know Sherlock?"

"I sure do. He's an interesting fellow, but I like him. He's better than most of the others."

John absorbed this information as he stepped up to the little office window and checked in.

* * *

When Sherlock walked into the hall and stood in line, he noticed his two least favorite people. Anderson and Sally spent last year tormenting him. He smiled at the realization they weren't in his class this year.

"Hey freak!" Sally shouted.

_Here we go again_ thought Sherlock, ignoring the insult.

"Didn't you hear her? You're a freak! A dreadfully terrible freak!" Anderson yelled.

Sherlock watched some nearby children turn their heads.

"Well, no new insults I see. How disappointing."

"You'll always be a freak and nothing but a freak."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. So much for no problems. He caught his adoptive brother's eyes from the office window. The older boy gave him a small smile of encouragement that caused him to regain hope.

"Well, see you later," Sherlock turned away from the bullys and stared straight ahead.


	6. Bullies

** A/N: This chapter makes me smile and want to cry all at once, I hope you guys love it :) leave me a kind review? Or a critical one, either way is fine. **

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters,_

_I just shrunk them down a bit. _

The first couple weeks of school passed quickly. John avoided the attention of any mean children and Sherlock avoided the others altogether. Unfortunately, the younger boy couldn't hide forever. Sherlock cowered behind a rubbish bin, ignoring the awful smell. Suddenly two small hands grabbed his collar and forced him out of his hiding place.

"Hey freak, we found you, now we're gonna pound you," Anderson taunted.

Sherlock struggled to free himself from the taller boy's grasp. He almost escaped when Anderson pulled an arm back to punch him, but didn't quite avoid the knuckles slamming into his mouth. Anderson was eight, although he was in the seven year old class. He hated Sherlock's brilliance and took every chance to torment the kid for it. Drawing back for another blow, Anderson smiled at the blood dripping off Sherlock's lip. Before he could swing, a hand grabbed his arm.

"Let go of him," John demanded.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. You've busted his lip and probably dirtied his collar."

Anderson let go and turned to face the spoilsport. At the sight of the slightly taller, skinny boy, he rolled his eyes. The death glare on John's face soon changed the scorn to fear, and he dashed away with Sally in tow.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" John asked hurrying toward his little brother.

Sherlock nodded, not trusting his voice. Before he could try to get John to leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He slowly looked up to meet his brother's worried gaze.

"Here, let me wipe up your lip and see how bad it is. Don't bother protesting, it won't stop me."

Sherlock submitted with reluctance as John poured some water on a handkerchief and gently dabbed the blood off his lip. The split was very small but very painful. After finishing with the lip, John wiped some blood off his patient's chin and tried to remove it from his shirt.

"You really should go see the nurse."

"Why? It was just a little punch to the lip, I'm fine now," Sherlock protested.

John shook his head.

"You know what I think?" Sherlock continued, "I think you're going to be a doctor when you grow up."

"Maybe if I'm very lucky," John responded with a chuckle, "now, come on, I'll walk you to the nurse."

Sherlock followed John to the nurse's office, shuffling his feet as he walked. When they reached the door, John turned.

"Do you want me to come explain what happened?" John asked gently, noticing the nervousness on the younger boy's face.

Sherlock nodded, then took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The nurse kindly listened to John's story. She took note of the incident and complemented John for helping Sherlock out. Finally turning to look at the lip, which had started bleeding again, she seemed surprised at how well Sherlock handled the situation.

"Well dear, your lip ought to be fine after I put a little ointment on it. Don't do too much talking this afternoon because that could cause it start up again. I'm glad your friend here caught that bully."

"My brother certainly got me out of a tight place," agreed the little boy calmly, accenting the word brotherMLIA

The nurse glanced back and forth between the boys for a moment, trying to glimpse a similarity.

"I'm adopted," John supplied.

The nurse quickly finished with Sherlock's lip. When the boys left the office, they hustled in different directions to get to their classrooms. John radiated anger at the boy who dared to touch his amazing little brother. Sherlock's attitude of nonchalance covered the damage the bullies caused, both psychically and emotionally.


	7. Summertime

** A/N: So, sorry for the wait guys, I'm a junior in high school and so unless I get a review, I kinda forget to post :p Thank you to those of you who have reviewed! Also thank all of you (however many of you there are) for being patient :) I'm incredibly grateful! Enjoy this sweet filler chapter before the infamous Carl Powers incident in the next part.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just minified them! They're Doyle's and Moffat's and Gatiss' _

* * *

After the bullying incident, John made sure Sherlock stayed by him at lunch time and break times. This system worked for the rest of the school year. The last day of school came around and Mycroft and Harry made it home from boarding school in time to meet them in the school yard.

"Harry! Myc!" John shouted happily, not embarrassed by his display of excitement.

Sherlock didn't shout, but those who knew him could see his face light up as he followed his brother to greet their older siblings. Harriet gathered a beaming John, a slightly squirmy Sherlock, and an uncomfortable Mycroft into a group hug. The summer days drew the siblings closer and closer.

One warm July day, Greg came over, as he did almost every day, and the five kids sat in the spacious back lawn enjoying the sunshine.

"Hey Harry, what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Greg asked suddenly.

"Well, I think I'd like to be a baker. How about you?" Harry responded with a smile.

"I want to be a policeman," Greg answered before turning to Mycroft and asking, "what about you Myc?"

Mycroft made a face at Greg and thought for a moment. "I'd like to work for the government I think."

"I'm going to be a consulting pirate," Sherlock announced randomly.

"What's that?" Queried John with a slight bit of confusion.

"I made it up. Whenever the pirate captains are confused about where to find treasure, I'll lend a hand. Also I'll help people with personal problems they have with the government on the side."

The others sat in shock for a bit at the odd occupation before Mycroft turned to John.

"Well John, what do you want to be?"

John hesitated before responding.

"Well, I'd really like to be an army doctor. If I even achieve one of those, I'll be very pleased though."

"I bet you'll be the best army doctor of all!" Sherlock commented.

The kids dropped into a comfortable silence, each contemplating the others and feeling very much like nothing in the world could ever go wrong.


	8. Sherlock's First Case (Carl Powers)

**A/N- Hey guys, so I'm a jerk :p I got amazing reviews which really motivated me a lot, and it took me a week to get this written. I want to thank the wonderful folks who reviewed, I'm gonna send P.M.s to you guys (forgot that too, like I said, I'm a jerk). Enjoy this chapter, it's the Carl Powers case :) I think it's pretty okay. Let me know what you think?**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters (except the nameless, incredibly dumb DI and co.), they're BBC's and ACD's._

* * *

Summer ended far too soon for anybody's liking. Mycroft and Harry went back to boarding school while John and Sherlock went back to school. The first half of the year passed without incident, but one day somebody gave Sherlock a newspaper.

"Boy Drowns in Swimming Competition," the headline read.

"Sherlock, what are you reading?" John asked, glancing over at the small frame half-hidden by the large paper.

"His shoes…where are his shoes anyway?"

"Sherlock?"

"John, I'm in my mind palace, wait a moment."

John sighed and waited until Sherlock finally shouted in victory. The boys were in John's room while John did his homework. Luckily, the door was closed so most of the noise stayed in the room.

"What is it Sherlock?" John's exasperation barely concealed itself in the exclamation.

"This boy in the paper, he didn't have a seizure, he was murdered! See, his shoes are missing!"

Sherlock squirmed off John's bed and practically shoved the pages at John's face.

"Sherlock Holmes, that's a very risky thing to say. Maybe he just left his shoes somewhere else?"

John stayed calm as he realised his eight year old brother read graphic stories in the news and analysed them carefully.

"No, John, look!" Sherlock blurted, before specifically explaining each detail to his astounded older brother.

"Sherlock… that's… that's amazing!" John commented when the curly haired child finished his monologue.

"You really think?"

"Of course! You're an absolute genius!"

"That's not usually how people react," Sherlock observed, a tinge of red colouring the otherwise pale cheeks.

"Well, what do other people say?"

"Most of them look at me sadly and comment about how I'm delusional. Or they punch me."

"Oh Sherlock, don't listen to them," John said gently.

"I don't. Will you go to the New Scotland Yard building with me?"

"You want to go to the police about it?"

"Of course, they're all wrong!"

"Just a warning, they may not listen, but we can go if you get permission from Mummy for me to bring you to London."

At this, Sherlock bounded out of the room, leaving John to marvel at the intensity and confidence in the little boy.

Sherlock got permission for the upcoming Saturday, and John awoke to a bouncing mass of curls and pyjamas at an unearthly hour.

"Sherlock! It's six am on a Saturday! Get another hour of sleep, then we can get ready to go," John grumbled while trying to contain the ball of energy named Sherlock.

"But sleeping's boring! I wanna gooo!"

"Sherlock, stop bouncing around and go back to sleep."

Sherlock decided going back to his own room was a waste of time and crawled into John's bed.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock almost looked ashamed as he started wriggling back out from under the covers.

"You can stay, but don't put your feet on me, they're cold!"

The brothers drifted to sleep until John's alarm woke them at seven.

"John, why do I have to wear a coat?" Sherlock griped as the bus jostled toward London.

"Because it's chilly. Your coat is neat, it's mysterious. Why don't you make-believe you're a spy?"

Sherlock assessed the long swishy black coat draping over his shoulders and decided John's idea was a good one. The last half of the ride went quickly and soon, New Scotland Yard loomed ahead of them.

Swishing his coat dramatically, Sherlock strode to the front desk with John in tow. The woman sitting at the desk looked down at them and reminded them that this was NOT the place for lost children. Sherlock turned on the charm that John rarely saw from the boy and convinced the woman to let him see the DI on the Carl Powers case. Dazed, John followed his brother through the official hallways to the office.

"You really expect me to believe a six year old boy-" the detective began before Sherlock cut him off.

"I'm eight, obviously."

"Well fine, you expect me to believe an eight year old boy found clues the officials did not and that Carl Powers was murdered by someone he bullied? That's ridiculous."

Sherlock's face showed a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"It's so obvious! You've gotta believe me!"

John placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sherlock, this guy doesn't know what he's doing, but you've got to let it go. He's just going to kick us out. Let's not give him the pleasure,

" he mumbled quietly.

Determinedly, the younger boy lifted his chin and slid from the chair, looking annoyed that he had to jump down.

"Well sir, I'm sorry you won't listen, poor Carl's killer shan't be caught, not until I do it myself. Goodbye."

On that note, the two boys left New Scotland Yard and pointed their footsteps toward the bus stop.

"John," Sherlock called over the noisy bus.

"Yes Sherlock?"

"I'm not going to be a consulting pirate anymore, I'll be a consulting detective. Then no more killers will go free."

John nodded solemnly before responding, "I think that's a good idea Sherlock."

They rode the rest of the way home in silence, Sherlock filing away the information about NSY in his mind palace and John watching the scenery crawl past them.


	9. Separation

**A/N: Guys, I had a really bad week... Which is why this chapter is so darn late. Never fear, I think it's one of my better ones, although it's really really sad! I'll be posting every Tuesday night from now on though. Thanks for understanding and for reading :) **

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just a cluttered brain and a slight addiction to them... _

The rest of the school year passed quickly. Summer arrived and the four siblings were reunited. As the summer wore on, Sherlock slowly started to distance himself from his older siblings. John fought against the chilly aura radiating from his little brother, but Sherlock never gave him a chance to ask about it. Anxiously, the eleven year old wracked his brain for anything he had done to cause the distance. The realization struck him a week before school started. Over the next two days, John hunched over his writing desk, going through sheets and sheets of paper. Then, he waited. At lunch the next day, Sherlock ignored everyone completely. Halfway through the meal, he rose and stormed out. When John rose to follow him, Mycroft shot a warning look at the boy.

"He does this every year, don't worry about it too much."

"Mycroft! You haven't been paying any attention, have you? I have though."

Finishing his rant, John grabbed a fat cloth sack that he and Sherlock made earlier that summer and hurried after his brother.

* * *

Sherlock slumped on the stool in a back room. The room held memories from before John, memories he tried to delete. Dust covered the white countertops where he used to expirament meticulously on bugs and leaves. The old skull he'd found in the attic watched over the shelves of spiral bound notebooks. Those were the lonely times. Now he would be lonely again. Without John and Greg at school, he would never have anyone to talk to. Mycroft, Harry, and now John would stop thinking about him during the year, never sending so much as a note or asking for him on the phone. Sherlock Holmes, child genius, shook in his size twelve shoes at the returning loneliness. Loneliness hurt, and Sherlock didn't want the pain to return.

* * *

When John finally reached the little back room with Sherlock's initials painted blue on the door, he knocked. Upon receiving no answer, he called out, "Sherlock, I know you're there. I'm coming in."

When this received no response, John twisted the bronze tinted knob and shoved open the door. Sherlock's curly head drooped nearly to his chest, both palms pressed to his face. His legs dangled several centimeters above the floor. The small shoulders shook, although not with sobs, in all, it was a picture of anguish John never wanted to see again.

"Sherlock."

No response. John slipped closer to the quivering child.

"Sherlock, look at me, please."

Still nothing. John laid his little sack on the counter and put his young hands on his brother's cheeks. Gently, he lifted Sherlock's face until the younger boy was eye to eye with him.

"Sherlock, tell me what's wrong. I need you to tell me, I can't read your mind."

"You're going away, and you'll not be the same when you come back and you'll say I'm such a kid and how grown up you are. I'm going to be by myself."

"Sherlock, I'm not going to do that. Yes, I'm going away, but I'm still going to be myself when I come home. I'm going to write or e-mail almost daily and call you every week."

Sherlock's blue-green eyes glossed over and his lip poked out slightly. He refused to cry.

"That's what Myc said, and he changed bunches."

"I'm not Mycroft though, am I?" John replied kindly.

Sherlock shook his head slowly. John reached over and pulled the sack off of the counter.

"Look at these Sherlock, I wrote them for you," John said, pulling out several letters.

Each letter's envelope named a different feeling. Several read "lonely," while others said "angry," "happy," "upset," "hurt," "bitter," "confused," or "scared."

"I don't get confused or scared John."

"You might one day, I thought I should be prepared," he responded with a wink, "When you feel one of these feelings, I want you to pick out a letter and read it. Don't read them until you need them though."

Sherlock grasped the sack of letters John handed him so tightly his fingers started hurting.

"Thank you John."

"Of course Sherlock, that's what brothers are for."

* * *

The day when the older three left for boarding school hurt everyone. The ride to the train station consisted of silence and gloomy faces. Facing the window, John felt a tear threatening to fall. He reminded himself that eleven is far too old of an age to cry, but it didn't help. Sherlock sensed the sadness in his brother and scooted closer to him.

When they reached the station, Sherlock hovered by John until he absolutely had to move. Slowly, he said goodbye to Mycroft and Harry. Finally, he turned to John and stared.

"Sherlock, I've gotta go now," John said with a sad look on his face.

"I know, I'll miss you John, for real."

John hugged Sherlock and replied, "I'll miss you too."

The two separated and John rushed to get on the train. Sherlock stood and watched the train roll out of sight. Turning away, he steeled himself for the loneliest year of his life.


	10. Boarding School Beating

**A/N: Hi! I'm a day late (at least where I live), I just finished BBC's Merlin tonight, which is probably why this chapter is soo long and depressing. I apologize for no Sherlock, I got carried away, but he'll be in the next one for sure! Thanks for reading :)**

_Disclaimer:If you recognize it, it's not mine_

John's first year of boarding school was miserable. Unlike the school at home, parental lineage meant more than any abilities you had. Thankfully, Mycroft watched out for Harriet, so John focused more on protecting himself. When Greg was around, nobody bothered him much, because his parents were incredibly powerful. John couldn't be around Greg 24/7 though.

A boy two years older than John decided the small eleven-year old could use some torment. Sebastian Moran followed him to all his classes, waiting for a chance. One day, just as John was going to phone home and talk to Sherlock, Sebastian reached out and dragged him aside.

"Hey nobody, what's a piece of trash like you doing at this fine establishment?"

John fought back nausea, memories he'd tried to forget resurfaced. Memories from before his parents died in a car wreck. Times when his father would rough him up for no good reason, blaming him for things that weren't his fault.

"Answer me kid."

"Because my family sent me here."

"Your family? You. Have. No. Family."

The sneer on Moran's face stung worse than the tightly clenched fist on his arm.

"They only did it for the publicity you know. They needed a good reputation boost."

John squirmed before shouting violently, "you're lying!"

Sebastian Moran responded with a powerful punch to John's face. He dropped on to the grass which was coated in a slight layer of snow, instinctively curling into a ball to protect himself. He felt blood from his cheek and nose making trails down his face as the bigger boy kicked him hard in the back once or twice.

"You're no good, kid and you never will be," Sebastian growled harshly before turning and walking away.

John lay in the snow, allowing tears to mix with the red slush under his head. He knew he should get up and care for his injuries, but everything hurt. John faded into memories of the darkest kind just as Greg dashed up to him.

* * *

Greg worried about John constantly. John was his best friend, practically his twin. That's why he went looking for John when the boy didn't show up ten minutes after he said he would. Retracing John's typical route, Greg scanned every bit of pavement and grass. Finally, he noticed a figure lying in the snow a bit off the path. He broke into a run shouting for his friend. The boy's prone form quaked, his eyes squeezed shut.

"John!"

Greg knelt beside his friend, noticing the bloody snow by his face.

"Please! Don't hit me again Daddy! I didn't mean to!"

The desperate cry sounded nothing like John's normal eleven year old voice. It was young and terrified. After sitting frozen for a moment, Greg wrapped his arms around John's shaking body and, with effort, lifted him out of the snow. He struggled back to their shared bedroom and placed John on the closest bed. The cries of fear faded to whimpers as Greg sat beside him.

* * *

When John finally snapped out of his nightmare, he pried his eyes open to see the concerned brown eyes of his friend staring into his.

"John, are you okay? Where are you hurt? Who did this to you? Your dad beat you up when you were a kid? How can I help?"

John blushed a bright shade of crimson before answering all of Greg's questions.

"I think I'm fine, I just have a couple bruises on my back, I'm freezing, and my face is bloody, a bigger boy with blonde hair who didn't tell me his name, yeah I'd rather not talk about it, and I hate to ask, but some dry clothes and a warm flannel would be wonderful."

Greg threw some of John's clothes to him and rushed down to the bathroom to get warm water and the cloth. When he returned, John cuddled down in the bed, which happened to be the right one thankfully, with his dry clothes on and an even more powerful blush on his cheeks.

"Let me wipe up your face John, you look awful."

John tried to protest, but Greg wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Greg, really, I can do it, I'm perfectly alright now, really."

"Stop, you'll split the cut again. I'm nearly finished."

John wrinkled his nose and fought the urge to squirm like a small child after a meal. Greg huffed in annoyance saying, "Now I understand the saying 'doctors make the worst patients!'"

John almost got away without Greg trying to check his back, but the heap of wet, blood-stained clothes reminded him.

"Let me see your back John."

"No! That's just weird Greg. They're just bruises, seriously."

"If our positions were switched, what would you do?" Greg asked with a stern look on his face.

"Greggg, really? You're pulling the logic card?" John whined in response, but he turned around.

Greg took one look at the bruises and sighed again.

"Just bruises? These are definitely NOT just bruises."

"Yes they are Greg."

"Just bruises don't bleed though."

John seemed surprised at this revelation.

"My back is bleeding? I didn't even notice."

"Well stop squirming, you can't see your back, it's behind you. Let me just get the blood off and I'll try to describe it for you, or take a picture or something."

John pouted slightly, but stayed still as Greg gently dabbed the blood away from the bruised flesh. Finally, he finished.

"Okay, let me go get my camera from my dresser and I'll take a picture to show you."

Greg quickly grabbed the camera and snapped the picture.

"Eww! No wonder they hurt so much!"

John's comment was accented with a yawn. Greg realized he probably should have checked for a concussion, but John hadn't shown any symptoms, so he didn't bother.

"You've just been through a lot, you should sleep. I'll just e-mail Sherlock and let him know you couldn't call, but you will tomorrow."

"It's only four, I'll wake up in the middle of the night."

"Then you can wake me up and say 'I told you so', but right now you really should sleep."

"I'm not a baby Greg."

"I never said you were, but you might be catching a cold, and sleep is good for sickness."

John yawned again and stuck his tongue out at his friend, then decided arguing took too much energy and settled into bed. Greg stayed in the room until John fell asleep, sent Sherlock a quick e-mail, and went to supper, being sure to smuggle several slices of bread and chicken for John if he needed it.


End file.
